


Your place or mine?

by Bebrenx



Category: Clean Bandit (Band), Years & Years (Band)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 19:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5303573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebrenx/pseuds/Bebrenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olly and Neil are flatmates. Neil sleeps around a lot, which Olly doesn’t mind. Really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your place or mine?

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

It’s late enough that when Olly unlocks the door and pauses, face scrunched up to brace himself for noises he’s not wild about hearing but very much used to, and instead hears blissful silence, he assumes Neil’s out for the night.

It’s not that he brings someone home every night – they don’t have a revolving front door to keep up with Neil leading someone (or some people) in and then back out again before the sun rises. But Neil does have a very active sex life and as his roommate, Olly gets to witness it more often than he’d ever really want to (unless he was part of it, but that’s a whole different matter and not one he likes thinking on for too long).

It’s not that surprising really – he’s a very (very, Olly tacks on mentally for good measure) attractive guy, he’s free and single and has no qualms about approaching someone he’s interested in. Olly’s always admired his easy confidence – it never strays too far into cocky, but he’s direct and up front and it nearly always gets results.

He’s also a really great roommate in nearly every other respect other than his frequent, often fairly noisy, visitors, so Olly has tried to adapt to steer clear as much as he can. He works shifts at the Edition, often taking the late ones if they’re going, since Neil and whoever his companion is for the night are usually finished by the time he gets back. And during the day he often has rehearsals with the guys – they’re finally making headway with agreement on what they want their sound to be like – so he’s worked out an effective enough pattern that it’s not nearly as frequent as it used to be.

Olly still feels a bubble of relief all the same, tries to tell himself it’s because he’s particularly knackered today and could do with a good night’s sleep. The paper-thin denial to himself is essentially a habit these days, rather than having any heartfelt belief behind it.

There’s no light from underneath Neil’s door, so he assumes he’s in bed too – he’s studying for an MA and somehow manages to balance it alongside concerts which also require Neil to spend hours practising on his violin – so there are usually a couple of nights a week where he doesn’t make it much past 10 before calling it a night.

Olly smiles to himself as he get readies for bed, thinks of Neil shuffling around the kitchen in the morning, a huge yawn forcing a pause in his grumbling when he can’t find the milk even though it’s usually right in front of him. He’s not the best morning person, even when he does get a good night’s sleep, but Olly enjoys the mornings when it’s just the two of them, how they step around each other without a second thought – Neil passing Olly a knife to butter his toast without being asked, Olly flicking the kettle on if he’s up first, knowing Neil has to have tea as soon as he gets up and getting out his favourite blue mug, even though it’s got a chip in it.

When Olly drifts off, the corners of his mouth still quirked up slightly, it’s with the picture of a rumpled Neil at the forefront of his mind, and it’s not the first time he’s fallen asleep thinking about Neil.

He’s woken up with a start, heart thumping wildly in his chest, eyes blinking open in the darkness, trying to wait out the disorientated spinning in his head. It takes a moment, but then he realises what’s woken him up and he feels his gut wrench painfully.

There’s low murmuring and giggling, the bang of something against the wall – it could be a bag or shoes, and a ridiculous attempt at quietening whoever it is down since Olly can hear Neil’s loudly whispered “Shh, I think my roommate’s in”.

He can’t make out distinct sentences after that, but the walls are thin enough he can hear the shuffling and soft thumps which his imagination runs away with, assuming it’s clothing coming off.

There’s a bang which is close enough to his door that he jumps, before another loud “Shhh, you’ll wake Olly up – oh, oh,” then Neil’s groaning far, far too close to Olly’s room for his comfort and there’s a pleased sounding laugh – and that answers that question. Tonight it’s a guy, at least Olly hopes just the one; it’s bad enough tuning out two of them, let alone more.

There are a couple more reluctant moans on Neil’s part – Olly supposes he can at least be grateful Neil’s trying to shuffle his companion away from Olly’s room. It’s just he keeps getting distracted along the way.

Finally, they move away and he hears Neil’s door open and close and it’s quiet for a few moments. Their rooms are far enough apart that they can’t hear conversations from each other’s, but near enough that when a rhythmic thumping starts up not five minutes later, he can hear the frantic moans and muffled murmurings.

It’s nearly worse like this, he thinks. Getting enough sound effects to know exactly what’s happening but not clear enough to hear what Neil says when he’s having sex with someone, what intimate endearments get whispered into their skin. Olly thinks about that more than he should.

He flops onto his side, shifting across the bed into a cooler patch, uncomfortably warm under the covers all of a sudden, and brings his spare pillow over his head. He resigns himself to a sleepless night, but does his best to ignore the heat pooling in his stomach when he hears a choked off whine that he knows well enough is Neil. He is not going to make it worse for himself, he is not.

 ***

Olly’s sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through an old magazine and picking his way through soggy cereal, having left it too long daydreaming. He’d drifted off for a few hours after the enthusiasm of last night’s shagging tailed off, but figured he’d just suck it up and just get up come 9.30am, when he woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’s been settled in his current spot for an hour, occasionally flicking a wary look towards Neil’s closed door.

After reading an article on a Geordie Shore bust up, he glances back at the door casually, just out of habit, when this time it actually opens and his eyes widen involuntarily in surprise.

It’s not Neil is his first thought.

The guy who appears is pretty tall, lean, and notably shirtless, though Olly supposes he can be grateful he’s managed to pull on his jeans, even if they are riding low around his hips.

He’s rubbing a hand through light brown curls, which look ruffled in a deliberate way, then reaching up to stretch, joints clicking as he sighs in satisfaction, before his eyes settle on Olly.

Olly’s tempted to raise an eyebrow and be a bit of a dick, but suppresses the urge, because it’s not this guy’s fault Olly’s got a terribly ill-advised thing for his roommate.

“Hiya, ‘m Olly,” he says cheerfully instead with a little wave, enjoying the guy’s awkward pause, smile freezing before he seems to take it in his stride and it turns conspiratorial.

“Neil’s roommate?” the guy has a nice voice, gravelly, maybe a little hoarse, and Olly’s not going to think about why that might be. “Sorry if we were noisy coming in last night, mate, we were a bit worse for wear by then. I’m Ali,” he tacks on, looking far too comfortable in a stranger’s apartment than Olly would be.

“Nice to meet you,” Olly lies. “Did you want tea or coffee?”

The guy gives him a brief, considering look, before he nods. “Tea would be great thanks – milk, one sugar.”

Olly can’t help wondering if Neil’s awake yet and if this guy is staying a while longer – usually Neil’s hook ups are gone the morning after, so he doesn’t want to think about what it might mean if this Ali guy hangs about. Instead, he preoccupies himself by sticking the kettle on and getting started on making tea.

“Known Neil long?” Ali asks and Olly wants to know if the universe is taking the piss out of him on purpose. Why, oh why, has he apparently been gifted with a very chatty one night stand of Neil’s?

“A year and a bit. I kind of have a band and he was at one of our shows, met him at the bar afterwards, hit it off, been friends ever since,” Olly reels off, trying not to sound bored or irritated. “And you?” he can’t resist asking.

Ali’s cheeks flush just a tiny bit, but his easy smile doesn’t fade. “We just met actually, last night. But we realised we’re both doing an MA at the same uni and in the same department so it’s weird we hadn’t bumped into each other before now.”

“Mmm,” Olly says noncommittally, turning his attention back to the now whistling kettle.

They chat a bit stiltedly (on Olly’s part anyway) for a few more minutes until Ali is finally quiet while he sips his tea.

Which is just the moment Neil’s door opens and he shuffles out yawning widely, dressed only in his boxer briefs, still looking deliciously sleep rumpled. Olly has seen the sight a hundred times and yet it doesn’t lose its punch, often makes him want to avert his eyes, mouth going dry, and reminding him he is doing a terrible, terrible job at looking elsewhere when it comes to going on dates.

“Morning Olls,” he smiles that soft, familiar one he tends to only use for Olly and Olly’s heart lurches as it always does when it’s directed at him.

“Nice to see you before midday, is this a personal best?” he wonders, smirking to himself when Neil flips him off, but turns back to get an extra mug out for Neil anyway.

“Fuck off, I work very hard and not all of us can be as lovely as you without their beauty sleep.” It’s his usual flirty nonsense, and Olly often has internal debates as to whether he should discourage it, for fear of making himself more miserable in the long run.

But then he thinks of it grinding to a stop altogether and thinks he’d probably feel even worse. So he takes the flashes of suggestion and makes do with otherwise having Neil’s attention most of the time anyway and tries not to dwell on the fact it’s not a very healthy situation at all.

“And a very good morning to you too,” Neil’s voice is pitched a little lower, and Olly can’t see his hand, but by the looks of it and knowing Neil, it’s probably groping Ali on the arse a bit unashamedly.

Ali had been looking between the two of them with an amused expression, but now he turns towards Neil like a flower unfurling in the sun. Olly thinks he’d find it sickening even if it wasn’t Neil who was on the receiving end of his attention.

He tries to ignore their hushed conversation and busies himself getting Neil a cup of tea, though when he turns around he hadn’t pieced together why it had gone suddenly suspiciously quiet and is faced with the pair of them kissing. Neil’s got one hand cupping Ali’s chin tenderly, and Olly can see far too much tongue than he’d ever want to.

He sets Neil’s mug down in front of him slightly more loudly than intended, a clang as it hits the countertop, and says pointedly, “I’ll leave you to it,” before taking his mug and deciding he’ll finish it in his room.

Mikey asked him once if he’d consider moving out – maybe even moving in with Mikey and James, when he was looking a few months back. Both he and Emre are aware of Olly’s inconvenient situation and regularly offer up advice of varying levels of usefulness.

He’d gone home the night Mikey had asked, thought about it for a good couple of hours and was on the verge of deciding this could be the prompt to help him get over Neil and not be around him constantly. Then Neil had come home with takeaway, beaming smugly as he announced he’d brought all of Olly’s favourites and hadn’t watched the new episode of Bake Off without him, even though he’d been home most of the day, and wasn’t he the best roommate you could possibly hope to have?

And Olly had thought rather resignedly, that yes, he really was. So that was the end of that consideration.

Most of the time it’s fine, as long as he braces himself for occasionally being caught off guard – both by how gorgeous Neil is (it happens too frequently despite seeing him everyday) and by how much it still hurts seeing him wrapped up with someone else.

He also thinks most roommates would excuse themselves from situations like that – who really wants to hang around like an awkward third wheel when round two might actually be about to happen in front of you at any moment?

Olly hopes that’s not actually going to happen, but hurriedly gets his over-the-ear headphones on just in case.

He replies to a couple of emails he’s been putting off, agreeing to swap shifts with his friend Ivy later in the week, and checks out a venue Emre has said is interested in them doing a regular set. He’s just working out whether it would involve getting a night bus home afterwards and which route he’d take, when a hand lands heavily on his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whirls in his seat, pulling his headphones off to see Neil looking part sheepish, part like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Sorry. Was just coming in to tell you that you can come out now. Ali’s gone.”

A happy buzz of relief surges through him, but he keeps his face carefully blank. He notes Neil is fully dressed now and freshly showered.

“I was just making sure I wouldn’t hear you two at it,” Olly gestures at his headphones. “I know what you’re like.”

“What am I supposed to do when you won’t have me, Olls?” Neil sighs loudly, leans down to wrap his arms around Olly’s shoulders and is painfully unaware of Olly’s heart thumping wildly in his chest. “I have needs, would you rather I was celibate?”

Olly’s head is screaming yes, which he does his best to ignore. “We all have needs Neil, but that doesn’t mean you need to satisfy them in the kitchen, where people eat.”

He flicks Neil on the cheek where his dimple has appeared – he’s always particularly smiley after getting laid, but Olly can’t help the little thrill of satisfaction he gets knowing he’s always the one who gets to witness it.

“We didn’t fuck in the kitchen, actually we didn’t do anything this morning. I just didn’t want to kick him out straight away, since I have manners. Besides you’d already gone and made him tea.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault your one night stand overstayed their welcome?”

“He was probably hanging around hoping you might be interested,” Neil teases, standing up but still hovering close by.

“Yeah, I’m sure someone who’s just been sleeping with you would be interested in me straight after,” Olly says with an eye roll and watches in amusement as Neil’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Always so oblivious when it suits him.

“I mean look at you,” Olly waves in Neil’s direction. “And look at me. If someone has a type we’re not exactly both in the same bracket.”

Neil actually looks at Olly and then down at himself utterly perplexed. “So? You don’t always get with people who have similar looks, not everyone has a type.”

“Okay, I’m just saying he’s unlikely to want to go from you to me,” Olly laughs to lighten the comment, but Neil’s expression is still frowny. He wants to reach up and smooth it out, get the sweet smile back.

“Fuck off, you’re gorgeous.”

Olly ignores the heat that rushes to his cheeks, spins around in his desk chair, keeping his eyes on Neil while he lets out an exasperated breath. “And you’re on a different level to most people, don’t act coy.”

Neil looks like he’s about to argue further. Olly is not in the mood to discuss Neil’s face with him any longer. It’s enough he has to deal with that (and his very nice body) on a daily basis; he doesn’t need to dissect why it’s so great with Neil himself.

“Anyway, you not seeing this one again? He was fit.” Olly congratulates himself on an excellent change of discussion.

Neil moves to sit on the end of Olly’s bed and shrugs, unbothered.

“Nah, it was just casual. I’m not really looking for anyone serious,” he looks back up at Olly. “It didn’t bother you too much did it, last night? I’ve been trying to come back here less recently.”

Olly feels a painful twinge at the realisation Neil’s probably sleeping around just as much, but is making an effort to keep it away from him. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

“No, it was okay,” he lies. “’s what I’ve got these for,” waves the headphones around again inanely. “But you had fun?”

The filthy grin that sweeps Neil’s face makes Olly regret asking that question immediately.

“Oh, yeah. He was so desperate we stopped at that park round the corner before we got back. Except I had mud all down those nice new jeans I just bought – you know the black ones? Anyway I woke up today with so many weird scratches you wouldn’t believe.”

He starts hitching up the arm of his shirt to inspect his arm and Olly’s just thankful it’s not his trousers he’s peeling off.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says instead, shaking his head, though feeling utterly unsurprised. Neil’s antics rarely catch him off guard these days. He’s pretty shameless with a burning exhibitionist kink and that coupled with the fact he gets laid very regularly means Olly has built up a bit of a resistance to the wild stories he hears the next morning.

Besides, it’s not like he’s a prude. It’s just he doesn’t necessarily like to get such vivid details from Neil, because all it does is add to his fantasies, instead of quell them.

“You should come out with me soon. We haven’t been on a night out together in ages,” Neil ignores the comment, instead pursuing his new line of conversation with interest. “Bit of drinking, bit of dancing, maybe find us a fit guy or two?”

Olly’s torn. He loves going out with Neil – they get on so well, and tend to gel just as well when they’ve both been drinking, but it’s always extra jarring when Neil goes from having a hand on the nape of Olly’s neck, dancing alongside him, to disappearing, eyes lit up with interest, when he sees someone who has caught his eye.

But they haven’t really spent that much time together of late and he feels a bit guilty – knowing it’s partly down to his avoidance tactics in the evenings.

“Yeah, sure. I’m picking up an extra shift this week and I’m going across with the guys to check out this venue we might be gigging at, so maybe next?”

Neil’s face brightens immediately. “Sick, I’m holding you to it. Wednesday unless you have a shift then?”

Olly nods and resigns himself to another night watching the object of his affections getting off with someone else.

Neil hops off the bed, makes his way to the door, before he turns around, leaning on the doorframe. “Oh, nearly forgot. I’m going to the shops in a minute, did you want anything?”

He thinks for a moment, can’t come up with anything he’s run out of, and shakes his head, only for Neil to frown again 

“How am I supposed to make up for keeping you awake last night if you don’t even have a long list of obscure things you want me to spend an hour searching for in Sainsbury’s?”

Olly laughs, remembers the last time he’d wanted a very specific new green tea with elderflower and Neil had come home triumphantly an hour later (despite the shops being five minutes away), brandishing a box and announcing he had visited six different places to find it.

“Guess you’ll just have to surprise me.”

Neil smirks at him then, eyes a dark flash of interest. “You should know better than to challenge me, because you know I will succeed. I’m going to find you something great.”

His competitiveness – even when he’s not competing against anyone else – is hilarious, and Olly has no shame in admitting he enjoys baiting Neil in situations like this if only to see his face set in determination. Especially if it means he gets an exciting present as a result. It’s a double win from his perspective.

Olly follows Neil out and seats himself at the kitchen table to wait for him and his potential surprise.

When Neil returns 40 minutes later with a plastic bag straining at the handles, Olly eyes him warily. “Pretty sure you had food in the fridge, what the hell did you buy – a Christmas dinner for both of our families?”

Neil grins and dumps it unceremoniously on the table. “Well, you know how you were complaining that the flat didn’t look homely enough and how your mum has all these plants around at hers? I went on an expedition and bought these,” he opens up the bag to reveal a cluster of several admittedly very cute potted plants – one with long creeping vines already curling down the outside of the pot, another with vast floaty leaves and a hardy looking cactus.

“The guy at the gardening centre said this one will weather whatever the fuck you throw at it, so even if you manage to kill the others within a week, he should tough it out.”

Olly feels  touched, as he always is when Neil remembers something Olly thought was just a throwaway comment he’d made, or something important to him but unlikely to stir up much interest among whoever he’s talking to. Whatever it is, Neil always seems to remember.

He leans over to inspect the plants better, runs a finger along the leaves, before sighing. “Yes, alright, you’ve done it again, this is a great surprise,” he says pretending to be bored, but the big grin he’s wearing undoubtedly gives him away.

Neil does a stupid fist pump and then leans on his elbows so his face is suddenly much closer to Olly’s.

He knows his breath catches suddenly and just hopes it’s not as blatant as it feels.

“Going to thank me then?” he’s quieter, voice bordering on suggestive, and Olly swallows, lets his eyes drag up to meet Neil’s, which are twinkling mischievously.

His heart drops at the obvious teasing – there’s no real intent behind his fun flirtation, as ever.

“Yes, thank you Neil, what would I ever do without a roommate like you?” he lays on the sarcasm, but reaches out to tap the end of Neil’s nose affectionately anyway, following it up with a quick kiss to his cheek. “Seriously though, these are awesome.”

“And there’s this one,” Neil ducks down where Olly hadn’t seen another bag, and withdraws a pot filled with tiny violet flowers on long fragile stems. “Guess what this is called?”

Olly eyes him suspiciously – it’s very cute, but he is certain there’s going to be a joke in here, and 90 per cent sure it’ll be at his expense.

“What?”

“Well Verbena something officially, but it had a tagalong bit called ‘little one’,” Neil looks unreasonably pleased with himself. “And I thought well isn’t that perfect, since I happen to know a certain someone who has the same Samname.”

Except only Neil uses that Samname on Olly, so it feels like a very personal gift even though it’s just intended as a sweet, but tongue-in-cheek, gesture. If he wasn’t already utterly besotted, this would easily be the turning point. As it is, his heart just thuds like it wants to escape from his chest, a feeling he’s become rather used to these days. Considering how excellent Neil is with gestures for Olly, he can’t even predict what he’d be like in a relationship, probably silly romantic.

Hasn’t had to witness it yet, doesn’t dare think about what it’ll be like when he does.

_I am so in love with you_ , he thinks.

“Well aren’t you clever,” he says instead, unable to stop himself reaching over to trace over the delicate flowers.

“I like to think so.”

He shakes his head, but gives Neil a small smile anyway, aware it’s probably far, far too fond, and he makes two internal resolutions there and then. One, make more of an effort to go out and date himself, knowing he hasn’t really thought about it properly since living with Neil, only the occasional dalliance occupying him from time to time. And two, to make sure the plants are tended to religiously.

***

The next day Olly comes home after rehearsing with the guys, humming to himself cheerfully as he unlocks the door and very nearly drops the bag of takeaway he’s carrying.

Neil’s on the sofa, which isn’t unusual, but what makes Olly stop in his tracks, a wave of nausea washing over him, is seeing the girl straddling his lap. From what he can see in those horribly slow seconds he stands there frozen, she’s got a skirt on but Neil’s got a hand up underneath it and Olly can’t see his face but he bets it’s watching her breathy reactions intently.

He feels a surge of anger at being made to feel so uncomfortable in his own flat, dumps the takeaway down on the kitchen table when he finally makes himself move, keeps his voice casual though it still sounds a bit tight as he calls out, “Hiya, don’t mind me, going to my room”.

There’s a momentary flicker when he feels victorious, seeing Neil and the girl scrabble around out of the corner of his eye as Neil calls out “Olly” sounding uncertain, but voice low, like it gets when he’s turned on.

Olly waves a hand over his shoulder in which he hopes is a _don’t worry, I’m a totally chill and relaxed flatmate, you get on with it_ way, rather than _please stop breaking my heart right in front of me_ , which is all he feels.

He shuts his door behind him, debates going for a shower to drown out any noises drifting in from the living room, but decides against it as that means he’ll have to pass Neil and the girl again.

So he picks up his trusty headphones, flops onto his bed, and sticks on his aptly titled :( playlist, which has had far too many plays of late.

With his previous good mood all but entirely dissipated, he can’t help but feel resentful about the fact Neil’s going to have made his takeaway go cold too. If he wasn’t so preoccupied with his dick, they could be having a nice snuggling session on the sofa watching TV and eating curry.

But no, instead Olly’s wallowing to Bon Iver with his stomach rumbling, and Neil’s apparently having a grand old time in the living room.

He squashes a pillow over his head, feeling petulant and irritable, and closes his eyes, hoping he’ll drift off for a long enough nap it’ll be over by the time he wakes.

Considering his mouth feels like fluff, and he’s disorientated for a good moment, Olly thinks he did actually manage to fall asleep, and it’s only when he’s come to that realisation does he suddenly realise the reason he’s woken up because he can’t breathe as there’s something on top of him.

He flails around in a panic, before seeing a very familiar arm tucked around his side, as Neil catches one wrist in a loose grip right before it catches the side of his face. “Oi, it’s just me.”

“What the fuck?” Olly glares as well as he’s able to, considering his heart’s going a mile a minute from the sheer terror.

“I came to get you to have takeaway, which thanks by the way I’m starving, but you were all curled up, so I decided to join you.”

“By suffocating me?”

“My stomach may have got the better of me and implored me to try and wake you up via cuddling.”

“You are such a dick,” Olly huffs, but Neil’s in a soft navy jumper – one of Olly’s favourites – and tracksuit bottoms, looking all cosy which isn’t fair at all.

He finds it hard to stay angry at that face at the best of times, let alone when he’s enticingly soft and rumpled like now.

Olly lets Neil tug him off the bed and out the room, hand clasped warmly around his, which isn’t making Olly feel anything because it’s just a casual way of making sure Olly’s following behind him. Neil is handsy, Olly has tried to come to terms with that.

It’s not until they’ve settled in front of the TV, some containers reheated and shared out between them that Neil nudges him with his foot.

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t think you were coming back tonight. Obviously, I don’t usually do it out here.”

Olly doesn’t think that’s obvious at all, given the fact Neil a) is an exhibitionist, b) has a very high sex drive and c) has definitely fucked someone on the sofa before, since he’s told Olly about it in a late-night sharing session.

But he’s feeling magnanimous now the girl is nowhere to be seen and he has what he wanted in the first place, which was Neil tucked up next to him, hair mussed up, lopsided smile directed entirely in Olly’s direction.

“I think that might be a lie,” he says with a raised eyebrow, enjoying the way Neil has to break eye contact, looking a little sheepish. “But luckily I haven’t seen it before so I have no proof,” he says flourishing a piece of naan at Neil as he picks it up from the table.

“And don’t you ever go back to theirs?” He slightly regrets asking that question, since Neil gives it pause for consideration, which means he’s going through his very lengthy list of past dalliances.

“I do – it’s just sometimes easier to come back here, and I’m not always thinking enough to get them into the bedroom,” he says finally, looking back at Olly. “You know I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to bring someone right back? I mean, other than Max obviously as he’s a fucking wanker.”

Just the mention of Olly’s ex makes him smart a little, though it’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be, so there’s that at least.

“Wouldn’t want to bring Max home,” he retorts sulkily, though unbidden images flitter through his mind of being tangled up with Max, the fingerprint bruises left on his wrists just how he liked them and the very pleasant problem of finding it difficult to get into a comfortable seated position the next day. Because the sex was good, bloody fantastic – the only aspect of the relationship that was and the only thing that really kept Olly around.

“You haven’t brought anyone back in a while though, nobody caught your eye?” Neil asks casually enough but the interest in his voice is clear. Though Olly supposes he’d be curious too if his roommate who used to get laid on a very frequent basis suddenly appeared to go cold turkey out of nowhere.

“I’ve been busy and not all of us have fuck buddies on speed dial,” he points out slightly defensively.

“Well if you’re feeling frustrated and need a helping hand, you know who’s in a very convenient location for you,” Neil grins invitingly and Olly is tempted to upend his bowl of curry over his head, because seriously, how fucking obtuse is he?

“Yes I could see that panning out really well,” he says instead with a smile, pretending to be preoccupied with digging around in his bowl to chase the last piece of pepper.

Neil doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when he does it’s cheerful. “Luckily for you we’re going out on Wednesday, which will be the perfect time to get you laid.”

“Mmm,” Olly nods around a mouthful of food which he may or may not have stuffed in his mouth timed exactly for when Neil would be expecting a response.

He wonders if he can fake coming down with a flu by Wednesday, but quickly banks that idea knowing Neil has stroked his forehead one too many times when Olly’s been ill and would easily see through him faking it.

There’s still time for him to trip over himself and twist his ankle before then though, he thinks optimistically.

***

He hasn’t injured himself by the end of the week and isn’t holding out much hope for a freak accident in the next couple of days, so when Olly goes for lunch with Grace and Neil on Sunday, he has resigned himself to his fate.

“It’ll be fun,” Grace says, waving a breadstick around dismissively after Olly explained the plan while they wait for Neil to arrive. “Besides he’s right, you could do with going out and getting some male attention. Well, other than Neil’s but when don’t you have that?”

She rolls her eyes and Olly’s about to point out rather petulantly that he doesn’t have it in the way he wants it, but Neil announces his presence just then, dropping a few bags to the floor with a clatter, and sliding into the free chair, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Sorry, the queue in John Lewis was obscene. Maya better be bloody grateful, it took me half an hour to find the sodding perfume,” he huffs, rolling the sleeves up on his jumper.

It’s the red Umbro one Olly likes borrowing and he watches for a moment, watching the delicate line of Neil’s wrist as he pours himself a glass of water from the jug on the table, before trying to pick up the thread of conversation.

“Olly’s just been complaining about going out on Wednesday,” Grace says with a gleeful smile as if she’s enjoying throwing him under the bus.

He glares at the traitor and is tempted to change the keys to their flat without telling her so she’s in for a nasty surprise the next weekend morning she comes over, pitifully looking for a brunch buddy. He won’t because he’s not that bad a person, but he is tempted.

“Olly,” Neil’s frowning at him, and he looks all disappointed, like an overgrown puppy that has realised it can’t fit in its favoured nook under the stairs anymore.

“I just said I’ll probably be overtired and boring because of all my extra shifts and that you’d probably find some godly guy within ten minutes and leave me to it,” he slightly edits the version he’d told Grace, and the eyebrow raise he gets in response tells him she’s all too aware of that.

Neil opens his mouth to respond and his expression has turned indignant but he’s delayed by the waiter who wants to take their orders.

“I would not just ditch you!” Neil turns back to Olly as soon as he’s finished ordering, leaning forward. “I already said this is a mission to find you a guy, not me anyway, and I’m not easily swayed from my aims.”

“And Neil’s hardly going to want to dance with anyone else when you’re there,” Grace adds helpfully.

Olly’s amused, because they do always fit together well on nights out, among the sea of people with far too inappropriate dance moves, the dangerous ones with flailing limbs and the awkward ones bopping along out of time with the music.

“My sense of rhythm is rare,” he says with a regal nod of his head and Neil snorts in response.

“And you spend most of your waking hours together anyway,” Grace continues, undeterred. “How it hasn’t got to the point where you just skip the shagging around and stick to each other I just don’t know.”

Olly feels like he might’ve just had all his innermost thoughts exposed, but Neil doesn’t bat an eyelid.

“I keep trying to tell him this. I have made my availability crystal clear, Grace, but I keep getting shot down,” Neil shakes his head mournfully as he looks at Olly accusingly as if it’s all his fault. “So many times I’ve offered a helping hand, so to speak, but to no avail.”

“Could you imagine how weird it’d be to sleep with Neil and then have him escorting two other people out of our flat days later?” Olly points out, feeling like he has to defend himself, but over what he’s not quite sure.

This discussion in general feels a bit surreal – they joke around about this, but it’s always a sensitive subject for him for obvious reasons, and it’s always uncomfortable when the chat gets a bit too close to the bone.

“He has a point,” Grace nods, looking at Neil with an expression that looks suspiciously like _I told you so_.

“I wouldn’t,” Neil says shortly, looking away to break a breadstick in half a little viciously.

“Your track record says otherwise, babe,” Grace says with a gentle smile, before taking a sip of water. “Can’t blame a boy for being wary.”

Olly wants to try and find a jokey way to say they could never, ever sleep together just for fun, or because they got bored and wanted to see what it was like, or because they were both in the mood and nobody else was around. Having it once and then not again, or even a few times only to see Neil flit off onto someone new as if Olly was just another in a long list of people Neil’s slept with, would be too difficult to bear.

But there isn’t really a jokey way to say it, since every way he structures it in his mind sounds painful at best and pathetic at worst.

So, he does what he usually does when they’ve been talking about Neil and Olly for too long – bats it away and changes the subject.

“You can prove that our relationship will stand the test of time by sharing your chips with me,” he says seriously.

Neil looks at Grace quickly, and there’s some sort of bizarre communication going on that Olly can’t decipher, but it’s gone in a flash and Neil’s pointing at Olly with the jagged remaining half of his breadstick.

“You are so lucky I tolerate your terrible thieving ways when we come for lunch, and that I prepared myself for the fact I knew you’d forget to order chips,” he says grimly. “My sandwich already comes with some, so the extra portion is mostly for you anyway.”

“Yay,” Olly says smugly, beaming at Neil, and the fond smile he gets in return makes his hands feel clammy.

“Look at the pair of you,” Grace says. “Honestly.”

“Just because Jack doesn’t share his chips with you,” Neil says snarkily. “You can have a couple too if you’re feeling left out.”

“Totally not my point, but thank you, I will hold you to that,” she says, waving a hand as if she can’t be bothered with their nonsense anymore.

When the extra portion of chips arrives and Neil duly slides it across so it’s nearer Olly, he tucks in happily, only to huff at both Neil and Grace when they begin scavenging for rogue chips soon after finishing most of their meals.

“Should’ve got two extra portions,” he sighs sadly as the golden pile decreases rapidly in front of him.

When there’s one left, Neil nudges him and nods at it, says: “That one’s definitely yours.”

He ignores Grace’s sound of protest and quickly Sams it before she gets there first.

“I was your best friend first,” Grace tells Neil grumpily.

“But look at this face,” Neil reaches round to cup Olly’s face and he quickly puts on a sunny grin for show, eyes shut to be extra obnoxious.

“I think that’s the problem,” Grace says darkly, which is not at all helpful, and doesn’t actually make a huge amount of sense.

She happily shares an Oreo milkshake with Olly afterwards though, and despite Neil’s best puppy dog eyes, he only gets a taste when it’s down to a sad pool at the bottom of the glass.

By the time they’re ready to leave, Olly thinks he might have actually eaten his bodyweight in food.

“Did you guys want to come back to mine? Jack and I might go to that new crazy golf place later,” Grace asks as she wraps her giant scarf back around her neck.

“I promised Olly we’d start the second series of American Horror Story,” Neil pulls a face, as if he doesn’t love it himself, and curls an arm round Olly, hand squeezing the back of his neck warmly.

“Of course you did,” Grace mutters, but it’s without heat, sounds resigned rather than irritated. “Lovely to see you both anyway, looking forward to getting all the dirty details after Wednesday. And we still need to go see the new Hunger Games film,” she points at Neil warningly.

“Yeah, text me we’ll work out a day next week.”

“Good luck for Wednesday, Olls,” Grace adds with a wink and he rolls his eyes, lets out a long-suffering sigh and glances at Neil.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” he adds with a weary shake of the head, ducking out the way when Neil goes to tickle his side and darts ahead, laughing at Neil’s pissed off face the whole way home.

 ***

When Wednesday does roll round, Olly’s actually looking forward to it. The opportunity to get a few drinks in, let loose on the dancefloor and hang out with Neil (even if for only part of the night) are all in his interests after all.

He’s picked up more shifts than usual which has been a boost to his bank account, but not to his sleep schedule, and now the guys have a few gigs lined up he’s also had as many rehearsals squeezed in as possible. So while he’s feeling pretty knackered, he’s also desperate to get some time to himself just to chill out, which a night out at a club should do.

He’s got a new shirt on, which in the right light is so thin it’s near transparent, which is just the hint he wants to show. And he’s even a little smug, since when he comes out to where Neil’s sprawled out on the sofa waiting for him the living room, he starts speaking, only to trail off when he looks up and sees Olly.

“Well you took your time... oh.” He’s staring at Olly’s chest. “I haven’t seen that shirt before, is it new?”

He would feel a bit self-conscious except he knows it looks good and while Neil can be unreadable a lot of the time, the way his eyes keep drifting down Olly’s collar bones is pretty self-explanatory and particularly gratifying.

He grins with a nod, and does a little twirl for added effect.

It’s not like Olly wants Neil to have his eyes on him constantly (okay maybe he does a bit), it’s more that it’s nice to feel desirable, especially ahead of a night out where the explicit aim is to find him someone to hook up with.

“Wow, not messing around tonight, are you Olls? Don’t hurt them,” Neil murmurs eventually, smile unfurling as his eyes return to Olly’s face.

“I’m glad you approve. Shall we head off then or else we’ll be queuing for ages?” he goes to grab his bomber jacket from where he’d left it on a kitchen chair earlier and smiles at the indignant snort he hears from behind him.

“If we do, it’ll be because you kept me waiting for nearly half an hour, as much as that effort has paid off,” Neil’s voice grows louder as he comes up behind Olly and untucks the collar of his jacket where it was presumably folded up at the back.

“Thanks,” Olly says, voice unexpectedly quiet, but suddenly very focused on the slight brush of Neil’s fingers, the brief touch against his neck of where one of Neil’s rings presses. He wished he didn’t get so caught off guard over such small things so bloody often.

Neil’s hands drop to Olly’s shoulders and he gently manhandles him to their door. “Come on then, or we’ll never be able to commence mission Get Olly Some.”

It’s maybe slightly more of an issue than Olly would like to admit that the whole way there he’s still thinking of Neil’s hands, shoulders feeling warm long after the pressure of Neil’s hands leave them.

***

Two guys offer to buy him a drink before he’s even halfway inside, and Olly politely declines though it’s a nice ego boost all the same. He’s planning on getting his bearings first, only for Neil to tug him over to the bar himself.

“You can do better than them,” he announces, ordering drinks for them both and paying before Olly even gets much of a chance to protest.

“I was gonna dance for a bit first anyway,” Olly says with a shrug, leaning back on his elbows to look out over the packed dance floor, strobe lights flickering across the sea of faces.

It’s easy to get caught up in the feel-good buzz of the club after that – he drags Neil onto the dance floor when they’ve finished their first drinks and picked up another each. It’s all too easy to let Neil crowd up behind him, not even bothering with a pretence of respectability, as he slides a hand round Olly’s hip and under his shirt, bodies lining up close as they move together.

It may not be the healthiest thing in the world to grind up on a guy you’ve had strong long-term feelings for, but Olly’s feeling light as a feather, can’t help grinning wildly as the music thumps through him.

They just always slot together so well on nights out, and as one track blends into the next, Neil squeezes his hip, shouts “I love this song” into his ear, and Olly turns his head to look at his face, knowing he’ll see one of his favourite Neil smiles – the open, unrestrainedly happy one when nothing’s bothering him.

He’s keeping a vague eye on the guys around them to see if anyone catches his interest, though he loses concentration every time Neil nuzzles behind his ear where the curls are slightly damp to ask: “What about him?”.

He’ll try and look in whichever direction Neil turns him, but he’s too focused on trying not to shiver up against Neil, feeling the vibration of his words up close.

There’s a moment – probably after the fifth or so time Olly’s shaken his head no – when Neil’s hand comes to rest just under his throat, fingertips brushing his collarbone.

They don’t move, just rest there, feeling the way Olly swallows, probably the rabbit-flutter of his heartbeat too.

Olly’s eyes nearly glaze over at the touch – the thrill of a possessive gesture like that along with the tease of Neil’s hand resting in a position where he could slide his hand up, tilt Olly’s head back if he wanted.

But he doesn’t want, Olly reminds himself fiercely, and it’s at that moment he sees a tall, fit guy with dark hair, grinning at someone else shouting something in his ear and nodding, but eyes very much on Olly.

It’s the first spark of interest he’s had all evening, and something must give him away, as Neil’s hand soon slides off him.

“He’s all yours if you want him,” Neil’s voice is just audible a moment later, and Olly’s instantly a lot cooler with Neil backing off a little from behind.

It’s nice of him to move back as soon as Olly sees someone of potential interest, but Olly still has an irrational urge to sulk all the same.

“You can thank me later for showing you off effectively,” Neil adds fondly, with a final squeeze to Olly’s hips, the heat burning through him distractingly. “I think I saw someone over at the bar.”

Olly looks back at the guy, who has now stepped away from the friends he was with and is making his way over towards Olly, with the now apparent all-clear from Neil dropping back.

He forces himself not to look back and wonder where Neil’s going, what the person in question looks like so he can stack himself up against them and wonder where he falls short.

Instead, he throws the guy a coquettish smile, glances down and then back up again – it’s a tried and tested move and sure enough, the guy is at his side a second later, eyes still on Olly.

“Hi, I’m Sam, do you want to dance?”

He’s straight to the point which is a relief, no embarrassing lines that Olly hates when anyone but Neil uses them.

“I’m Olly. Could we maybe get a drink first – I feel like I’ve been dancing for hours,” he says, aware his mouth feels dry and head a little swimmy from the non-stop dancing.

Sam gives him a slow smile. “Course. You were at it for a while.”

“Watching were you?”

“Yes,” he answers immediately. “And enjoying the show.”

He leads Olly out to the bar, hand a light touch on his lower back, not too over familiar which is another pleasant change on a night out.

Once Olly’s got a drink in hand, the bottle a cool relief against his flushed, hot skin, he turns to Sam, pleased he’s even better looking in the brighter light by the bar.

“Thought you were already otherwise engaged for a while there,” Sam says, glancing up from where he’s stirring a straw in his JD and coke. “Was just enjoying what I thought was a very hot couple, and was gonna keep an on eye you in case you were game for a threesome.”

Olly’s eyebrows shoot up at the bluntness of that, though it seems Sam’s teasing a little, and can’t help the shocked laughter that escapes.

“No, oh god, no. To everything.” He’s actually most perturbed by the thought that if he were in a relationship with Neil that anyone would have any doubt as to whether they’d be sharing. That would never be on the cards.

“He’s my roommate; we just like dancing together.”

“Think the whole crowd liked you dancing together,” Sam says with a little nod of his head to the even busier dance floor.

“Mmm, it was all a ploy really. Get attention, then try and find a nice-looking guy amid the masses,” Olly replies, taking a swift swig of his beer.

“Am I the lucky guy in question then?” Sam looks amused, but no less interested.

“Do you want to be?”

Sam laughs, low and pleased, leans closer. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Do you want to come back to mine?” Olly blurts out, decision made in a split second, prompted by the desire to see if Sam’s body looks as good out of clothes as it does in his long skinny jeans and dark shirt which clings nicely to his arms.

“Definitely. You want to finish that drink first?” he asks, hand still cupped around his own drink still a good half-full.

Olly takes a few sips of beer, rolls the bottle in his hand, feels it still pretty heavy and is about to nod, thinking that would really be a waste.

But just then over Sam’s shoulder he catches sight of Neil over the other side of the bar, eyes fixed intently on someone whose face Olly can’t see, though they’ve got dark hair, he can see that much. He’s got an arm propped up, emphasising the lean line of muscle, and he keeps doing that flirty half-smile that Olly loves and hates in equal measure, because it gets directed at everyone and anyone.

The other guy reaches a hand out to lay on Neil’s arm, and Olly’s night is not going to get derailed because of his own poor choice of affection, so he turns back to Sam. “Drink up, I’m not that thirsty anymore,” he says instead, hand resting over Sam’s to trace the outline of his glass.

“I can have a JD and coke any day,” Sam says, eyes still on Olly’s fingers, before pushing his glass to the side. “Lead the way.”

There’s a warm fluttering in his stomach at the clear want written all over Sam’s face – Olly taking precedence over anything else is pretty flattering – and he hops off the bar stool he’d been half perched on, looping his fingers round Sam’s wrist loosely and throwing him a quick smile.

Sam insists on paying for a cab back to Olly’s even though it’s not that far on the bus, after they realise they’ve just missed one, murmuring “I’d really like to get you back as soon as possible”.

Sam spends the journey with Olly’s hand in his lap, fingers stroking slowly over the delicate skin of his wrist, and Olly’s surprised at how much it turns him on, relieved that other people can still get him excited.

It’s only when they’re pulling up outside his flat does he remember to send Neil a quick message to let him know he’s left with someone, a small tug of guilt at leaving him there, before reminding himself that’s what Neil essentially said was the whole aim of the night out anyway.

_mission (nearly!) complete, see u tomorrow xx_

***

When they get in the front door, Olly has a brief moment of temptation to drag Sam over to the sofa and do it there as petty revenge for Neil’s past indiscretions, though a) he doesn’t want to tarnish the poor sofa even more, and b) Neil won’t even know as he’s probably off doing who knows what with that randomer at the bar.

He does pause to curl his arms round Sam’s neck though, darting up to press a string of kisses against his mouth.

Sam settles one hand round on Olly’s back, the other coming up to sit on his jaw line and presses back, not letting Olly take the lead.

He pulls back after a moment to direct Sam towards his room, but finds himself pinned back against the wall just before they reach his door.

“Sorry, it’s just – your mouth,” Sam says distractedly, and it’s easy for Olly to tilt his head up for another kiss, losing himself in that addictive feeling of being wanted, fingers curling in the back of

Sam’s shirt as he slides a leg in between Olly’s.

He barely notices Sam’s hand slipping up under his shirt until it’s ghosting down his stomach suggestively, fingers dipping beneath his waistband.

“You alright if I...” he trails off as he moves to Olly’s zipper and Olly lifts his hips encouragingly, a whimper escaping as Sam’s hand cups over him briefly.

“Lovely aren’t you?” Sam says quietly, pulling Olly’s jeans down enough that he can slide down his boxer briefs too.

Olly goes back for a kiss – prefers to keep guys’ mouths occupied when they’re getting down to it – as he gets affected by dirty talk far too easily, and can already feel his cheeks flushing at the compliment.

He does bang his head on the wall when Sam gets his grip just right, a long moan slipping out, and he grabs at the back of Sam’s shirt for something to hold onto as he starts jerking him off, a little dry, but still so good.

He can’t quite get comfortable from where he’s propped up against the wall, wriggling around even more than he usually does, until Sam pins him back with a hand on his waist. “Stay put you,” he mutters warmly, before getting back to stroking over Olly’s cock.

Olly’s already on the edge – grinding against Neil for the best part of an hour saw to that, so he’s not particularly surprised that he can feel his orgasm drawing closer.

It’s when he lets out a short, stuttering noise, just about audible over the rush in his ears and thudding heartbeat, that Olly suddenly comes to his sense and realises the background noise he can now hear is the turning of a key.

Except he’s too far gone to put a stop to the handjob he’s getting, so all he can do is spare the front door a glance as he comes, even though he knows exactly who’s going to be coming through.

Sure enough his eyes meet Neil’s as he enters, though Olly has a brief moment of surprise realising he’s actually by himself, before the absent-minded contemplation is replaced by mortification that he’s sprawled against the wall with his trousers halfway down, with only a stranger saving his graces. And all Sam’s got to show for it at the moment is a sticky hand.

“Oh,” Neil stops in the doorway, hand still halfway up keys poised awkwardly. “Wow, sorry, I thought you were out.”

“Sorry, sorry we got distracted,” Olly squeaks, doing his best to yank up his trousers, as Sam snorts at his ungainliness. “Forget you saw anything, we’re going in my room now,” he adds, shoving at Sam’s shoulder a little to get him to fucking move instead of just stand there sniggering to himself.

“Have fun,” Neil calls out belatedly, sounding a bit bemused, which Olly supposes isn’t that surprising.

He shuts the door firmly behind them and turns around to see Sam already stretching out on his bed, eyeing Olly. “Where were we?”

Olly grins, tries to get his head back into the right space and strips off his shirt.

“I was going to return the favour, but then you just stood there laughing instead of providing any moral support,” he cocks a hip, pauses before climbing over to straddle Sam. “So I think I’m going to tease you for a bit instead.”

He rolls his hips down, enjoys watching Sam bite his lip, hands coming up immediately to rest on Olly’s hips. “I’m going to accept this punishment graciously,” he grits out, moving to grip Olly’s arse, cheeky grin re-emerging.

Olly wants to wipe it off and get his attention all back on him. So he grinds his arse back down and smiles triumphantly to himself as the grin disappears and Sam’s fingers tighten on him.

***

He surprises himself by letting Sam have his number the next morning, tapping it into his phone before smiling into the lingering kiss Sam leaves him with, and he’s still smiling when he shuts the door after him.

He’d nearly forgotten how nice it was to have a really good night – especially with a random guy from a club, since you never quite know if the chemistry is going to translate to the bedroom, so it’s extra satisfying when it does.

He goes to make a cup of coffee and pours a bowl of Frosties, in need of a sugar hit, feeling smug, and a little achy but very content. He’s not working today and the next gig isn’t until tomorrow, so he has the rest of the day to stretch out on the sofa and watch garbage on the television.

Or well that was the plan, except half an hour into his America’s Next Top Model episode, the door to Neil’s room creaks open and he emerges looking very cuddly in a soft orange jumper and a pair of his older jeans, where the left knee is a little threadbare, and wearing glasses which is quite possibly Olly’s kryptonite.

He’s also got mismatched socks on – one looks like it’s got mini Santa faces on and the other sharks, and Olly should not find that as endearing as he does.

“Morning,” Olly singsongs at him, waving his spoon cheerfully.

“I forgot how terrible you can be after you’ve just got laid,” Neil grumbles, hand coming up to obscure his yawn.

“Excuse me for being happy,” Olly huffs, but doesn’t complain when Neil lifts his legs from where they’re stretched out on the sofa to sit down. He lets them rest back on his lap anyway, one hand resting on Olly’s knee.

“Take it you had a good night then – well you definitely were when I saw you anyway,” Neil smirks, as he tilts his head back on the sofa, turning to look at Olly.

It’s only then seeing Neil up close that Olly realises how tired he looks – the beginnings of dark shadows framing his under eye area, the sooty sweep of his eyelashes as he blinks only emphasising it.

He’s so distracted by that realisation that he doesn’t blush as furiously as he might have at the comment, instead nodding and leaning across to swipe under Neil’s eye tenderly.

“Yeah, sorry about scarring you for life. We weren’t that noisy were we? You look shattered.”

Neil looks at him for a long moment, shifts his hand to Olly’s ankle where his touch is hotter through the thin cotton of his sock, tracking along the bone briefly. “No, you were fine, well once you’d moved from being half-naked in the hall. I was just a bit buzzed so took ages to get to sleep, and thought I’d work on this essay I’d been putting off.”

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Olly asks.

“Like a couple of hours maybe, but on the plus side, I’ve finally finished that bloody essay,” he says, stretching his arms up above his head, jumper riding up, showing a tantalising glimpse of skin and the trail of hair down under his jeans.

“You doing much today?” Olly asks eventually, dragging his eyes back up, thankful Neil has closed his, head still tilted back.

“Nah, was going to meet Grace later to see The Hunger Games, but I think we’ll go at the weekend,” he murmurs, voice sounding a bit hoarse.

“Good you can cuddle with me on the sofa, I’m watching Top Model,” he says graciously, giving a little kick in Neil’s lap to get him to restart that soothing methodical stroking along his anklebone.

“Let me just get a drink and something to eat, do you want anything?”

“Tea?” Olly smiles hopefully as Neil carefully dislodges his legs and stands up.

“Yeah alright, give me a min.”

He comes back with two perfectly brewed cups of tea, rolls his eyes at Olly’s insistent grabby hands, but passes one over without complaint and settles on the sofa, unpeeling a banana he’s brought back with him.

Then he wriggles around to sit sideways and says, “so tell me about it then”.

“Tell you about what?” Olly asks, blowing at his steaming tea.

That gets him another eye roll and a put-out sigh. “Last night, you dick. You’re looking very pleased with yourself, so I’m curious.”

Olly takes a sip of tea too quickly and scalds the back of his throat.

He slumps back a bit, stretches his legs back out over Neil’s lap again to bide him a moment of time.

“Not all of us like to share as much detail as you, Milan. But after I had very little help protecting my modesty when you surprised us yesterday, I made sure Sam was suitably punished for it.”

He grins to himself, remembering Sam’s flushed face and wide, glazed eyes, the glisten of sweat up by his temples, the breathy pleading for Olly to get on with it.

“Sam? That was his name huh?” Neil ponders that for a moment, as if it’s anything other than totally inconsequential information.

“Yes,” Olly drags the word out, watching Neil and feeling a bit confused.

“It doesn’t surprise me at all to hear you’re a tease in the bedroom though,” Neil adds, after taking a bite from his banana, glancing up at Olly with something in his eyes that’s difficult to read.  

“Not always,” Olly smiles over his cup, feeling a little dangerous in skirting the edge of full on flirting, but emboldened by the success of last night and relaxed enough not to watch his words that carefully.

“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” Neil pauses, as if he’s filing it away, then gestures at Olly’s neck. “Didn’t know you liked getting marked up either.”

“Why would you?” Olly snorts. “We don’t exactly discuss our sex lives extensively, and I don’t really, anyway. I mean I don’t mind it, it’s more about the other person you know? If they’re into it. And sometimes it’s nice feeling like I belong to someone.”

He shrugs, wonders if that gives way a bit too much, though Neil’s been around long enough to have seen a couple of Olly’s relationships firsthand, so it’s not like he’s unaware.

“Maybe we should, if it means I get to hear these sorts of revelations more often,” Neil grins, tucking a finger under the edge of Olly’s sock, brushing back and forth over the bare skin. “So you planning on seeing him again?”

“Dunno, we swapped numbers, but I always feel like those sorts of nights are often better left a nice memory, you know?” he sets his cup down on the coffee table. “But he was really nice and good in bed, which sadly seems to be an increasing rarity these days. We’ll see.”

“Do you want something more serious now?”

Olly can sense the unasked question underneath Neil’s careful choice of words – _do you really feel okay to get back into a relationship after Max?_

“If it was the right person, sure, why not? I mean, I don’t mind the occasional one night stand, but you know I prefer being in a relationship. Casual stuff doesn’t tend to work out well for me.” He laughs self-deprecatingly and wonders how this morning went so wildly off-track from his planned fluffy reality TV marathon and wallowing in smugness, to going into a personal dissection of his feelings.

“Does it annoy you that I sleep around a bit?” Neil asks suddenly, the first time he’s ever asked so bluntly, making Olly gape briefly.

“Um, no?” he says unconvincingly.

“Is that a question?” Neil retorts, looking unimpressed, but also a bit hesitant.

Olly automatically feels bad for making Neil self-conscious about it. “No, no, only in the sense that I brace myself when I come in the door in case I’m greeted with your naked arse or something. You know I don’t care about you shagging lots of people. I mean look at this face, who could blame you?”

He tries to dilute the tension by poking Neil’s cheek to emphasise the last part of his rambling, feeling pleased when Neil’s smile pops up reluctantly a second letter.

“Right, but I have tried to do that less,” he points out, sounding hopeful as if he wants Olly to acknowledge the huge amount of effort that goes into not shagging someone in a communal room of their flat, rather in the privacy of his bedroom like most people do.

Olly levels a flat look at him and raises an eyebrow. “It’s really not that hard to keep your dick in your pants until you get to your room.” He suddenly realises his very recent hypocrisy and quickly continues before Neil gets a chance to discuss Olly’s antics yesterday. “And while all of us have occasional slip ups, yours are so often it’s almost as if you do it on purpose.”

Which he thinks is a fair enough comment. Although Neil definitely hasn’t brought as many people back in recent weeks as he was a couple of months or so ago. Olly’s seen far more of many, many strangers than he’d ever want to, thanks to Neil’s penchant for not making it to his bedroom before getting to it.

It’s not even strictly limited to their flat. A month back, they’d gone to a friend’s party, and Olly had known before Neil even set eyes on her, that he’d be sleeping with the leggy blonde propped up against the kitchen counter. Sure enough, they hadn’t been there longer than 20 minutes before Neil made a beeline for the girl under the guise of looking more drink, and Olly – ever attuned to Neil’s movements – had quickly turned to face the other way and busied himself chatting to Elisabeth and Anais.

It had worked for a bit – they’d both looked at his apparently sorrowful expression and wrapped him up in cuddles and made sure he wasn’t wanting for beer, while Elisabeth tried to distract him by showing him pictures of her latest hookup. The shirtless pictures of the really hot guy with really great abs did help a little bit.

Olly had excused himself to go to the toilet, and made his way to the upstairs one, assuming less people knew about it, and had a brief second to feel pleased with himself when the door swung open easily, only to gasp at the unexpected sight inside.

Neil had turned at the sound, mouth open on a loud, breathy moan, and held eye contact with Olly for a brief, torturous second, hand still cradling the girl’s head as she sucked him off.

Olly was only grateful she apparently hadn’t noticed his presence to spare both of their blushes – well hers at least. Olly’s pretty sure he opened and shut his mouth twice even though he had no intention of speaking, before his traitorous eyes slipped down once more, the image burnt into his eyelids.

Neil’s breathing turned shallow and it was only when he broke eye contact to look down at the girl that snapped Olly out of it. He nearly tripped over himself to hurry out of the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

So, it happened a lot, and it didn’t do much in the way of helping Olly’s feeble attempts to get over Neil.

But Neil doesn’t know that and doesn’t know why Olly feels quite as awkward around Neil’s constant one night stands, so he just pouts at Olly and holds his arms out, snagging a hand in Olly’s shirt to pull him in.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m never going to have sex here again, our flat will be a sacred haven,” he says dramatically, and Olly realises Neil can’t see his eye roll as he’s already folded into Neil, face tucked in by his shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Olly mutters to make sure the message gets across, shuffling in to subtly inhale the heady woody scent of Neil’s cologne.

“Are you sniffing me?” Neil sounds amused from above him.

Maybe not that subtle then.

“Yes, checking to see if you’ve showed before I get too close,” Olly lies.

“And yet you’re already all over me,” Neil says smugly, arms wrapping around Olly to keep him from moving. “And now I’ve got you here I don’t think you’re going anywhere.”

“Can’t breathe, think the smell is suffocating me,” Olly groans loudly, making a lacklustre attempt to get away from Neil.

“Shut up, I smell great,” Neil says knowingly, and he’s definitely had a shower this morning because Olly can smell the fresh scent of the orange shower gel he loves so much up by his collarbone.

He gives it a quick nip, relishing the surprised “Ow!” that he hears from above, and the chance to catch Neil off guard for a change.

Neil shuffles around to let Olly prop himself up on his elbows above him and frowns.

“Learning all sorts of things about you today, aren’t I? Fan of doing the marking up instead are we?”

It was a joke, obviously, except Neil’s voice is low and smoky, his eyes have dropped to Olly’s mouth and his face is very close, which is maybe more of a temptation than usual. But Olly’s seen him walking around after a shower with just a tiny hand towel for coverage, after he accidentally decided to stick all his big towels in the wash, so really, temptation is no excuse for what happens next.

He genuinely doesn’t know who initiated it, which is the only thing that stops him from descending into a full-blown panic, but one minute they’re just staring at eachother and the next he’s lying back down on top of Neil to press closer and get a better angle for what is suddenly a heated kiss.

Olly can’t even pretend it’s tentative or reluctant; it’s wet and dirty straight away, and he moans into Neil’s mouth when one hand sinks into his hair, the other coming to rest low on his back.

This is a terrible, terrible decision – he’s not even sure it qualifies as a decision since it’s happened so quickly he hasn’t had time to think. But either way, there is no way this can end with anything except more heartbreak and daily torment for him.

And yet Olly’s really not strong enough to resist the one thing he wants more than anything, so even though he’d thought he’d make a big step forward by sleeping with Sam yesterday without being plagued by thoughts of Neil, it’s really nothing compared to the all-encompassing feelings overwhelming him right now.

He wants to run his hands up Neil’s arms, feel the corded muscle he sees there everyday, or hold a hand to his strong jaw line while he maps out Neil’s mouth, but he’s too awestruck to do anything much except lie there and kiss back desperately. 

Despite having seen and heard what Neil’s like while he’s getting with someone, feeling the vibration of his deep groans firsthand and the hard line of his chest beneath him is all a bit much.

He pulls back to gasp in a breath, and Neil’s eyes flutter open, dark and hot as they take in Olly’s flushed face.

Olly has less than a second to try and get his bearings, before Neil’s flipping them over, Olly’s legs falling apart easily so he can kneel between them.

There’s still no time for Olly to think on what he’s doing, because Neil kisses him again and it’s a soft, yielding kiss, except Olly’s not sure which one of them’s doing the taking, because it’s all a bit of a blur.

Neil murmurs something into Olly’s mouth, which sounds sweet but he can’t make out the individual words. And then he moves back, but only to kiss along his jaw, up by his ear and then down the stretch of Olly’s neck.

He yelps sharply when Neil’s mouth settles over a particularly tender patch of skin, which is where he realises Sam must’ve left him that love bite, and can’t help but writhe against Neil at that thought.

Neil’s probably just doing it to be a dick so Olly has a blindingly obvious hickey he can’t conceal at the gig tomorrow, but the hint of possessiveness makes Olly weak at the knees, hand sliding into Neil’s hair to keep him there.

“Oh god, oh my god,” he breathes, eyes shooting open to stare at their nondescript ceiling and feeling the weight of the moment hit him all of a sudden.

“Neil,” he tries to say sternly, but that just gets him a low “Mmmm” in response and a kiss brushed along his neck making him shiver.

“Neil, god, stop.”

Neil pulls back at that immediately though he’s still got a loose, lazy smile as if he’s already come.

Olly’s heart leaps painfully at that, thinks for the thousandth time what he wouldn’t give to make Neil smile like that on a regular basis.

“What, am I squashing you?” Neil sounds totally unperturbed, as if getting off with Olly is just a standard daily event, nothing out of the ordinary.

Olly feels a bit sick at that, a heavy yet hollow feeling weighing on his chest.

“We were just kissing!” he points out, trying to say it calmly but the alarmed rise of his voice gives him away completely.

“I know, and I was enjoying it a lot, so can we get back to it?” Neil beckons at Olly lazily with his hand and it would be a dickish gesture if it were anyone else.

“We’re best friends and flatmates, don’t you think this is a terrible idea?”

He almost wants to tack on and _I can’t have my heart broken by you, because I don’t think I’ll be able to piece it back together if it’s you that breaks it_.

“No, I think it’s a great idea. I mean logistically it couldn’t be much better, could it?”

Neil’s hand has slipped up the back of Olly’s shirt and is doing very distracting things along his spine and then dangerously close to the waistband of his boxer briefs.

But Neil joking around just makes it that bit more painful for Olly, and it serves to pour cold water on the haze of pleasure he’d just been ensconced in. He clambers off, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry, needing the distance to clear his mind.

“I can’t - I’m not - I don’t want to just mess around with you,” he says quietly.

There’s a flash of something in Neil’s eyes, but it’s gone before Olly can work out what the emotion is, shuttering behind a mask as Neil’s face closes off.

“Oh, okay. You could’ve just said that before I made a fool of myself then,” Neil says flatly, and the ease has evaporated, an awkwardness making the atmosphere stilted and edgy.

“You didn’t. I was the one that…” Olly trails off, throws his hand around as if trying to find words for his horrible set of feelings, which have done nothing but cause issues.

If it wasn’t for the cursed things, he could be having what would undeniably be great, great sex with a very hot guy.

The problem is that Neil isn’t just a very hot guy; in fact the attractiveness just turned out to be a very good bonus. Or extra drawback depending on how you viewed the situation. Olly wasn’t viewing it in a very positive light right now.

Neil hasn’t acknowledged Olly’s disclosure of proper feelings for him, he just looks like he’s trying to think of an excuse to leave in a non-glaringly obvious way. Which wouldn’t exactly be a surprise, Olly thinks miserably, wanting to get away from the awkward situation of having pursued a quick hook up with his flatmate who’s head over heels for him when he doesn’t feel the same.

“Well, now we’ve cleared that up, did you want to watch the rest of this?” Neil slides himself back into a seating position, back far too upright to be natural, jumper still slightly askew from where Olly had rumpled it up. He folds his hands in his lap, and glances quickly at Olly, before returning his eyes to the television.

Olly looks at the screen, a lump in his throat, sees the credits of America’s Next Top Model playing, swallows hard and sits back down. “You made me miss that one, but I’ve seen it like ten times already, so we can just carry on with the next one,” he says, forcing a steady voice he doesn’t feel capable of.

They sit through another episode in near silence, which never, ever happens, and all the while Olly’s mind is cantering through panicked thoughts. Will Neil want to move out if this gets anymore awkward? Is their friendship going to turn into a forced sham, a pale imitation of what it used to be? Is he actually going to be able to stand seeing Neil with anyone else ever again now he knows what it feels like to have his lips on him?

When he can’t stand the silence any longer, he gets up to make another cup of tea, reaches out to get Neil’s cup at the same time as Neil stretches out a hand to pass it to him.

The burn of embarrassment that shoots through him when he snatches his fingers away almost without thinking is so strong he has to take a second to wait for it to pass. He takes a deep breath, tries to ignore the look Neil is giving him, and picks up the cup with a shaky hand.

Once he’s switched the kettle on, he rests his hands on the counter and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Despite happening only an hour ago, the events already feel intangible and out of reach, and Olly would be questioning whether it was all just a very vivid daydream if not for the painful silence stretching between them and the fresh bruise on his neck, made even more tender thanks to Neil.

He reaches into the drawer for a teaspoon to stir in the milk.

“Olly.” Neil’s voice makes him jump, the close proximity horribly unexpected.

He drops the spoon on the counter with a clatter. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Olls,” Neil’s voice drops as if he’s worried about making Olly jump again, his skittishness around Neil so unprecedented that he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Olly grabs a bit of kitchen paper to wipe up the splatter of tea he’s just made, before turning around to face Neil.

He’s got a hip cocked against the counter and his pose is all forced casualness, but he’s not even trying to mask the concern in his eyes.

“The last thing I want is for our friendship to go to shit, because I’ve maybe got hurt feelings and I’m getting defensive over the fact you don’t want to have anything with me.”

Neil looks a little nauseous, as if getting those words out was an effort in itself.

Olly feels a surge of affection at Neil being worried about the same thing he is, and the relief that neither of them want their friendship damaged settles his racing heart a little.

“I don’t either. I’ve coped okay with liking you for ages now, it shouldn’t have to change things just because you know now.”

It’s nearly comical the way they both seem to register each other’s words at the same time, eyebrows shooting up almost in unison.

“Like me as in actually like me?” Neil looks hesitant.

“You thought I didn’t want _anything_ with you?” Olly is stunned, because how on earth did Neil arrive at that conclusion?

“You said you didn’t want to mess around with me, so I thought you meant you’d make a mistake,” Neil trails off uncertainly.

Not for the first time Olly genuinely wonders if Neil is deliberately obtuse.

“I said I didn’t just want to mess around with you – I couldn’t just have it once,” he says, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Seriously?”

Olly gives him a look, because if Neil makes him repeat it once more…

“Okay, well I’ve been waiting for you for months just to clear this up.”

The way his mouth drops open, Olly knows he must look ridiculous. “And you were going to tell me when?”

“When you seemed ready for a relationship again, I didn’t want to try and rush you after Max. So, I’ve been sleeping around a bit for a distraction,” he looks sheepish as he ruffles the back of his hair. “And obviously because sex is a fun way to pass the time. But then you always seemed to close off when I tried to flirt so I backed off, until today when I thought maybe you were interested and had just needed time before.”

Olly tries to take this all in, to reconcile it with his months of pining and watching Neil off with other people, but then also him shying away from the times Neil did get too handsy or too smiley at him, assuming he was doing what he always did with anyone and everyone.

Maybe he could’ve been a bit more perceptive too.

“Oh,” he says instead and Neil just rolls his eyes as if Olly’s been the problem.

“So you want us as an actual thing?” Olly can’t help checking, wanting official confirmation.

Neil steps forward, hooks a hand back in Olly’s shirt and tugs him in close. “Yes, an actual thing. I think most people would call it a relationship.”

He rests his hands on Olly’s neck, thumbs stroking under his ears, murmurs: “Is that what you want too?”

Olly glances up only to look away from Neil’s very intense gaze immediately, feels his cheeks heat up as he nods quickly. “So don’t bring anyone else back here again,” Olly adds quietly in a rush.

Neil pauses in his stroking for a moment and doesn’t speak until Olly reluctantly meets his eyes again.

“Olly, if we’re together, we’re together, that’s it. I wouldn’t want to think about anyone else,” he says seriously.

It’s as if the warm flutter in his chest has had the go ahead to break out into a proper blaze. Instead of replying he launches himself back at Neil, mouths catching a little awkwardly because of his enthusiasm.

Neil laughs into his mouth, gentles him with a hand to his cheek and quickly goes about getting reacquainted with Olly’s mouth. He sinks against Neil, hands coming up to cling at his shoulders, the kiss actually making his knees a bit weak.

“If you didn’t have a gig tomorrow, I wouldn’t let you leave the flat for the next week at least,” Neil moves back to speak quietly against Olly’s lips.

“You’ve got me for the rest of the day, better make do,” Olly says quickly, breath already coming short in anticipation.

“Your place or mine?” Neil says with a smirk, like he’s actually pleased with himself for coming up with such a pathetic line.

“Oh my god,” Olly groans, already stepping backwards in the direction of his room and pulling Neil after him.

“Hope yours isn’t too far from here, not sure I can wait that long,” Neil continues from behind him, the amusement bleeding into his tone, making him even more insufferable.

“I’m so glad I have another use for your mouth now,” Olly replies once they’re in his room and shoves Neil in the direction of his bed.

“Hey,” Neil protests half-heartedly, already starting to strip off his jeans.

“Bit presumptuous aren’t we?” Olly’s already watching avidly though, Neil’s black boxer briefs riding up on one side, .

“Yes, forgive me for thinking we might actually finally be reaching the getting naked stage of today. Did you want to watch another episode of Top Model first?” Neil retort is muffled from his jumper, which he’s currently wriggling out of, before flopping back on Olly’s bed.

It’s a similar position to the one Sam had occupied, but everything else is so different. He knows this is going to be the image he’ll think of in the weeks to come when he happens to be by himself at night, though he’s hoping the signs are good that won’t be all that often after today.

Olly hurries to strip off too, if only so he can get back to shutting Neil up, and he shivers a little – his room always gets colder than anywhere else in the flat. He’s got a great big window but it just leaches heat.

So he hops on the bed and pushes at Neil until he has enough space to burrow under the duvet.

“Can you hurry up and get under here, it’s so cold,” he mutters at Neil’s incredulous expression.

“Oh,” he smiles in realisation. “I thought you were going shy on me again.”

Olly rolls his eyes and stretches out on top of Neil as soon as he obeys, before leaning in.

“Does this seem shy to you?” he asks, just before their lips meet, and any response Neil has is lost between their mouths and shaky breaths.

He’s seen Neil without clothes on more times than he can count, has been pressed up against him and felt his hard angles, soft hair and softer skin when they cuddle on the sofa, but it’s so very new being aligned top to toe, with just the thin material of their boxer briefs to separate them, intent clear and infusing the air with anticipation.

All he’s aware of is the heat of their skin, Neil’s hands tracing a sure path from his neck down his sides to palm Olly’s hips and the quiet slick sounds of their kisses, all soft lips and wet tongue.

He surfaces from the kiss with no clear idea of what’s just happened, Neil’s face the only thing startlingly clear below him as he licks his lips.

Neil moves a hand from its resting place on Olly’s hip round the back of his boxer briefs, fingers dipping under temptingly.

“This all good?” he asks, voice a husky shadow of its usual self, and Olly hadn’t realised just what it’d be like to have that low tone directed at him.

“Yes, I’ve been waiting a while after all,” he says pointedly, and before Neil asks just how long, which he’s seconds away from doing, Olly catches him back in another searing kiss, rubbing up against him to be as distracting as possible.

It works almost too well, because he can feel the hard line of Neil’s dick against his, just as Neil’s hand slips down further, fingers brushing back and forth tantalisingly close to where Olly wants them most, with just the slightest hint of pressure.

Olly’s tempted to encourage Neil to get to it, knowing it’ll burn, but feeling wild and a bit reckless in a way he didn’t know he could be.

But he pulls back a little from the dizzying, distracting heat of their kiss, murmurs something about the lube that’s nearest Neil’s reach and watches him nearly roll off the bed in his haste to retrieve it.

Neil’s expression furrows a little seeing it on the side table, cap half on, evidently tossed aside haphazardly.

Olly can feel his cheeks heat a little at the implication – has a brief moment of wishing he’d thought to put it away earlier after last night, but waits for Neil to look back at him and holds the eye contact almost defiantly, aware he has nothing to be embarrassed about.

He knows Neil knows it too – and just looks discomfited at the thought of Olly being with someone else rather than him. Though he doesn’t say anything when he gets back in bed, there’s a look of determination in his eyes that has Olly reaching down to get his boxer briefs off immediately.

There’s an amused huff from Neil’s direction at his hurried, clumsy actions, before Neil’s pinning Olly back into the pillows, lips pressing intimate kisses high on his cheek, along the bridge of his nose and up on his brow bone.

“You’re gorgeous, so gorgeous,” he pauses to glance down Olly’s body and this time, Olly is tempted to pull the covers up at the intense, searching once over he’s getting.

But Neil’s voice is laden with feeling – he can’t quite believe the enamoured tone is for Olly and Olly alone – so he stays there, a vulnerability settling just under his skin like an uncomfortable itch, and takes a couple of shallow breaths, letting Neil drink in the sight.

Neil shuffles forward and Olly’s legs spread easily to cradle his hips. He watches Neil stroke one hand along his thigh so tenderly he almost can’t stand it, before reaching down between Olly’s legs with his other hand.

Olly had been so distracted by the light, teasing touch along his thigh he didn’t even realise Neil was ready, so the slick feel of fingertips prompts an unexpected moan, that has Neil nipping along his throat and chin as if to chase after the sound.

“God, I always wondered about the sounds you’d make.”

“Unfortunately I got to hear all yours pretty well from your shagging tour round the flat,” Olly can’t resist sniping, which gets him a deft twist of Neil’s finger, and he writhes a little against the sheets, feeling them wrinkle against the damp skin of his back. He supposes at least he’s getting the benefit of Neil’s extensive experience in this department, which has definitely paid off.

“How long are you going to make digs about this?” Neil says with a long-suffering sigh, though his eyes are dark and intent, still following his fingers’ movements which gets Olly hot all over.

“Until you can shut me up,” he says and almost instantly regrets it at the look that settles over Neil’s face.

He’s always liked a challenge after all.

Neil leans in close and Olly tilts his head up expectantly, but is left bewildered for a second when his parted lips are left untouched and Neil darts to the side at the last second, mouth a whisper away from Olly’s ear, but not quite touching it.

“I’m not going to shut you up baby, I’m just going to get you making some different types of sounds, I think,” he murmurs, a second finger slipping in along with his first with a practised ease that has Olly whimpering, legs spreading further to encourage him.

Olly wants to grab onto the sheets, but now he’s finally got the chance to touch Neil, he doesn’t want to waste the moment, so curls one hand in his hair at the nape of his neck and runs the other along Neil’s arm which is up framing his head – a gesture that feels both possessive and protective all in one.

“See, knew you’d get on side with my idea nice and quickly,” Neil sounds amused, though he’s a little breathier with Olly squirming beneath him.

Neil murmuring in his ear is not helping at all, and Olly turns his head to the side to try and clear his jumbled mind, but it just presents Neil with the opportunity to nibble along his ear, sucking slightly before focusing his attentions on Olly’s neck again.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Neil moves, shifting the hand which was resting next to Olly’s face and runs his fingers over Olly’s parted mouth. “You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to do to you.”

“Can you - can you hurry up,” he pleads when Neil gradually works in a third finger, slow and deliberate, but at just the right pace.

He’s squeezing his eyes shut so tight white spots are dancing behind his eyelids – the sight of Neil crouched over him, hair flopping over his forehead, biting his lip in concentration, already red and wet from kissing Olly, is just too much to cope with along with the slow tingling feeling which is quickly getting more intense, making him grip at Neil’s shoulder to steady himself.

“‘m not gonna last otherwise and I really want you to fuck me,” he gasps out, hips bucking up a little to try and dissuade Neil from his dedicated efforts to unravel Olly in front of him.

Neil swears low under his breath, leans forward for another open-mouthed kiss, sloppy and so filthy it makes Olly’s stomach flip, before leaning back over the bed, presumably to grope around for a condom.

Olly’s preoccupied with the long line of his back, broad shoulders tapering down into his narrow waist, boxer briefs the only thing impeding Olly’s unrestrained view of his body.

When Neil turns back around, he’s got a condom packet in between his teeth and is quickly stepping out of his briefs.

“How do you want me?” Olly’s voice is so raw it sounds as if Neil’s just been fucking his mouth, and that thought alone makes Olly skip that fantasy to the top of his to-do list for next time.

It’s thrilling to think he has the power to make it a reality, rather than just an absent-minded fantasy he’d wank off to on particularly angsty nights when Neil was fucking someone else and Olly was masochistic enough not to put his headphones on.

Neil pauses from rolling on the condom to tilt his head considering the options.

“Think I’ve been calling the shots so far, you can decide this one,” he says with a lazy smile.

Olly quickly runs through the pros and cons of his favoured positions in his head, before flipping over and shuffling a little onto his hands and knees.

He has a brief moment of self-consciousness at being so exposed, but the rush of validation he gets when there’s a sharp intake of breath from behind him makes it worthwhile, particularly when he gets Neil pressing up along behind him seconds later.

“Jesus, Olly,” Neil trails a hand down Olly’s spine, fingers tracing the knobs of his spine almost reverently, making Olly shiver and not from the cold.

“You look so good like this,” he kisses just below Olly’s hairline, the sweetness in his voice a stark contrast to the desperate way he’s rutting against Olly.

“Stop teasing,” Olly breathes out, head dropping down for a moment as he exhales long and hard.

“Okay, okay,” Neil says quietly, almost to himself, and then he’s readjusting the angle, one hand light on Olly’s hip, which makes him part his legs a little more, before Neil begins sliding his cock in.

“Oh fuck, _fuck_ ,” Olly bites at his forearm for something else to focus on, everything already so much better than he could’ve anticipated  – the fact it’s Neil who’s making him feel like this just making it all that bit more overwhelming.

Neil’s going hard enough that Olly’s body quivers like a bow on each thrust, moans almost pulled out of him on each stroke.

But it’s still too slow and he can tell by the way Neil’s fingertips clench on his hip that he’s holding back.

“Give it to me faster,” he breathes out on a moan, and Neil’s hips stutter at the words.

“God, okay.”

Now Olly’s given the go ahead, Neil is relentless, hips snapping back and forth with an intensity that has Olly’s hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” is all he can manage, the pleasure spreading out from his chest all the way out to his fingertips as Neil murmurs endearments from above him.

“You’re so good for me, little one,” he pauses to shift, leaning right over Olly, hand coming up over his neck to tilt Olly’s head back onto Neil’s shoulder.

It’s so similar to last night, the way Neil’s fingertips spread across his throat when they were dancing together, just resting in that proprietorial way that makes his head spin.

He turns his head, all of a sudden desperate to have Neil’s mouth back on him. It’s a messy, awkward kiss because of the angle, but good all the same. He can’t hold it for too long, the ache in his jaw makes Olly move back around, and he arches his back a little just to hear Neil’s unexpected groan.

“Babe,” Neil murmurs quietly, sliding back in, pace picking up, both hands holding Olly’s hips now, sliding a little on each thrust.

It’s everything Olly wanted, filling that space in his chest he’d long thought he’d managed to ignore, and he can’t hang on much longer, orgasm cresting until it rolls over him, a crashing wave that has his knees giving way a bit beneath him and his arms folding, head dropping forward on a long, hurt moan.

Neil doesn’t take much longer, fucking into him with those deep strokes until he stretches out along Olly’s back, groaning into his ear.

Olly can feel the way Neil’s body goes taut and then heavy, relaxed above him, and with surprising deftness, Neil gets an arm round Olly just as he flops onto the bed next to him, flattening his palm against Olly’s stomach and giving it a playful pat.

“That was even better than my numerous fantasies about it,” Neil says, nuzzling into Olly’s curls, voice hoarse but sounding very pleased with himself.

“Glad it lived up to your expectations,” Olly smiles to himself, threading his fingers through Neil’s before deciding he’d rather see his face.

He wriggles around, which results in some discontented grumbling from Neil, until he realises Olly’s not going anywhere just switching positions.

He can’t resist shuffling up as close as he can get, legs slipping in between Neil’s as he rests a hand on his chest.

“Do you think it’s going to be weird going from like living together to sleeping together? It’s not the normal order of things” he wonders, idly walking his fingers up and along Neil’s shoulder.

“Not really. It’s like we’ve done all the dating already. It’ll be basically the same, except we’ll be making up for the missed opportunities to have lots of sex, and hopefully I’ll feel slightly less out of order for being annoyed anytime a guy approaches you.”

“Huh,” Olly says, thinking it over. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m usually right, you should know this by now.”

“Your smugness still isn’t an attractive trait,” Olly lies.

“You’re still a terrible liar,” Neil says smugly, but lets Olly shut him up with another long kiss. And another, then another.

Which quickly leads to a second round of Olly shutting him up with a very thorough blowjob.

Later, when hunger drives them out of Olly’s bedroom and into the living room, a shared blanket the only thing concealing their modesty, an old rerun of Criminal Minds quickly gets forgotten in favour of Neil pulling Olly into his lap to see how much noise he can get him to make just using his fingers.

Olly supposes this new arrangement might work out alright after all.


End file.
